


Won't You Come On Home

by womenbeshopping



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Someone Help Will Graham, There is also sex, Time Jump, also u are gonna fight some bitches!!, honestly justice for all the female characters in this show bc bryan fuller paid them DUST, i apologize for the heterosexuality, which explains the pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenbeshopping/pseuds/womenbeshopping
Summary: Will is missing. It is suspected that he fell to his death with Hannibal after the capture and murder of Francis Dolarhyde.The world starts to move on and the few who would mourn Will Graham accept his death; you hold out and take matters into your own hands.Post Season 3 -- With flashbacks to establish relationship / provide context
Relationships: Will Graham & Reader, Will Graham & You, Will Graham/Reader, Will Graham/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Won't You Come On Home

* * *

There were some days that felt like the final turn of winter into spring. A slight creak in floorboards adjusting to the warmer temperature, pollen with its dusted coat on the sidewalk. Like a lover stirring before they open their eyes, the world showed signs that it was waking up. Thank God for that. It had been a long winter. 

How many weeks had it been since you last saw Will? 

Life had gotten so comfortable, so natural, in those three years after Italy that any suggestion of parting seemed unimaginable. Truthfully, the domesticity of married life never seemed appealing or even possible, but somehow, you two slowly fell into it, cradled by stability and familiarity. Just for long enough that it felt like it was there to stay. But life, with all its patterns beat on, and soon you found yourself separated once more. 

\---

“The worst part about you being gone was having to pick up all the poop by myself.”

Will laughed as the dogs criss-crossed in front of you two, tangling their leashes. It was common that your daily walks turned into a dance of unknotting yourselves down the sidewalks of suburban Baltimore. The whole pack was still getting accustomed to their wide open fields turning into city streets. You promised Will that living in your townhome was temporary-- that he would be out in the country again soon. He just needed an immediate escape from Wolf Trap, and all of the memories clenched in the jaw of that small house.

“I thought you’d be used to it from the shelter.” He lifted his arm over your head, narrowly avoiding Winston and Zoe from twisting together. 

“You’d think. It’s still a bunch of dog shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I could be such a reprieve on the endless horrors of your life,” he said, nudging your elbow. 

“Forgot to ask-- did you pick up any souvenirs in Italy for me?” You nudged back.

Will stared down at the frosted grass, suddenly pulled into the past. His breath came out in small cloudy wisps around his face. Although his humor had slowly returned in the weeks since Hannibal’s arrest, the wounds were still fresh and sometimes a joke could peel back a healing scab.

“None that you would like.”

You took a deep breath. During the times in which Will would escape into a memory, whether it was through a nightmare or zoning out for a day, it was like a veil was gently placed over him. Everything was harder to get to. It required patience and tenderness for you both to feel your way through to the other side.

“You know you can tell me anything. I’ll listen. And I don’t mean that in a-- _I’m here for you and you’re valid,_ fake-type way that people do, but you know, anything. Warts and all.” 

Sometimes it was hard to reassure Will. He had been trained to believe that anything he did was grounds for punishment. Divulging information, withholding it...action, inaction. The last thing you wanted to do was sound like a psychiatrist. He needed something comforting, not clinical. You found that Will would disclose small bits of information that you would have to piece together. The truth, or the lived truth, was often too difficult to reveal all at once. 

“I know that,” Will exhaled.

“Good.” 

Heavy panting and the jangle of leashes filled the silence of the cold morning air.

“I did actually pick up something for you.” 

You turned to Will in half-disbelief, half-curiosity, swinging a leg around a stray member of the pack to avoid getting tied up. He dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small baggy of dog waste, holding it out in front of your face.

You burst into laughter which made him follow suit. He looked accomplished every time he made you laugh-- his eyes flicked up to yours and then right back to the ground, a prideful smile pulled across his face. You took the baggy from him as if it were a precious thing, then flung it into a nearby trash can. 

“Thank you.”

Your gloved hand brushed against his own, feeling the warmth radiate through the wool. 

\--

The sheets felt cold where Will used to sleep. It was such a drastic change from the usual furnace of heat that emanated from his body. Sometimes a dog would take his place, curled up at the head of the bed, but it still felt vacant. You would take his pools of sweat and tumbling sleep habits any day over the stillness and chill without him. 

“Are you awake?” You whispered to yourself. 

Will asked you this every morning, without fail. The rough timbre of his voice would crack through layers of fatigue. You would open your eyes to his curly hair sticking out on one side and matted on the other like a hound. Or a silly little prince.

“Are you awake?” 

Now you continued the ritual without him.

“Yes,” you said.

Your hand reached out to the nightstand, rummaging around for your phone. And bless the telephone, for it had been a lifeline for you both throughout Will’s re engagement with the FBI. Hearing his voice grounded you and vice versa. 

Wincing against the bright light of the phone, your eyes met with a blank screen. No missed calls, no notifications. It was strange of Will not to call. Even if it was late and he knew you’d be knocked out from a long day at work, he would still leave a message. There had been two days without any word from him. 

You told yourself that two days was a perfectly normal amount of time to not use your phone when you were working around the clock catching a serial killer. You also told yourself some other, much more worrying things that made two days of silence seem like a death sentence.

A flurry of pawsteps and barking came from downstairs. You could hear yapping and scratching at the door that called for your immediate attention. _Will._ It had to be. The dogs wouldn’t act like this for anyone. You rolled out of bed with no regard to your haggard morning appearance and hurried down the stairs with a hand placed lightly on your stomach. 

Harley and Max barreled up the stairs, circling around your legs. 

“Dad’s home! Yes, alright calm down, calm down. Just wait, don’t get all crazy on me,” you could hear the smile in your voice, all the drowsiness evaporating away. He would probably come home with his hair neatly parted, the way he started doing to look _more serious_ at work. As soon as he stepped through the door, you would muss it up again. Back to comfort. Back to the natural state of things.

But behind the front window curtain wasn’t Will. A large, black SUV hummed quietly on the street. You watched with bated breath as a figure with a charcoal coat stepped out of the driver’s seat. Jack Crawford. As he approached the door, he took his hat off slowly and held it in front of his chest, looking at the pavement in contemplation and grief. You knew what this meant.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so im new to hannibal...  
> i also had to look up all the dogs names lmao so Yes They Are Accurate!
> 
> anyways please notify me of any glaring errors.  
> if u are confused about the nature of the relationship/history of u and will...well LOOKS like u gotta keep reading 2 find out!


End file.
